(Why is it my fic is the ONLY one that never seems to go to the front page when it's updated? It did that twice already, including last time! Let's hope that doesn't happen again. It's really unfair.
Anyway, this chapter is more so a relationship developer than it is a plot developer. Enjoy~
Oops, and I forgot to add "Jet and Set" are names my friend gothicorca1895 came up with. As well as "Miss Vanelley".)
It had been two weeks. Two weeks in this damn candy land and living with insufferable, sugar-coated residents that always insisted on being so chummy and happy around him, especially the munchkin.
"Uncle Turbo, look what I found!" 'Uncle Turbo', that's what she had adapted to calling him. As much as it made the racer shudder, it boded well for him since their 'closeness' prevented the girl from being suspicious of him.
He was currently sitting in a patch of candied blossoms. One good thing about this land was that it gave him something to snack on whenever he needed to.
"What is it, Pixie?"
The puffy-dressed little girl bounded through the flowers, and skidded to a stop in front of him. She held up a four leafed clover to his face.
"Look, it's a four leaf clover!" She plopped down next to him and rested her head against his side. Like the ever-dotting 'uncle' he was, he looped an arm around her and ruffled her hair.
"They say you get good luck when you find one of these," Vanellope continued. She gently smoothed the fruit-roll-up petals and then handed it to him. "Here, I want you to have it. Maybe it will give you good luck and you'll be able to get your own game again someday."
The racer hid a smirk in a grateful smile and pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead. Oh, the delicious irony.
The pixie had seemed to have forgotten who he was as she curled up in his arms, like he was an old-time friend or something. Either that, or she was just that upset. There was no point for Turbo to complain. It wasn't as if he could set her down after all.
Being confined in a cabinet with artificial lighting, it was always hard to tell if it was night or day. Turbo had a feeling it was early morning, but since it was Sunday there would be no gamers today regardless. At least Vanellope didn't have to worry about racing on a broken leg.
What Turbo failed to realize was that since it was Sunday, it was likely that the imbeciles the child associated with were probably waiting for her back at the castle. Unfortunately, he received that reminder when an armored woman suddenly came barreling at him with a gun.
The normally hostile look in the racer's eyes was replaced with one of ludicrous, wide eyed fear as he hopped back with Vanellope when the woman aimed at his face. He hastily shoved the yelping child into a startled Ralph's arms.
"It isn't what you think! What are you doing, you psychotic female?!"
"It isn't what I think?!" Calhoun roared. Her visage had twisted to one of complete rage as she seethed at him, and pinned him to the wall with the butt of her gun. "What's to explain? You obviously decided to go off and hurt the kid while we were absent!"
A finger strayed to the trigger of her gun without thinking, but Felix's desperate cry and his hand yanking on his wife's arm brought her back to reality.
"Darling, no!" the handyman cried. "If you kill him you'll kill Vanellope!"
Calhoun realized this with the bewildered blink of her eyes, and she scowled in rage and roughly released her grip on Turbo. The racer abruptly stumbled to the ground.
Paying the sore and livid villain no heed, Calhoun only snarled a random string of curse words under her breath as she tucked away her gun. "Damn link..." She glanced over to Vanellope. The child was no longer as distraught, but she still leaned up against Ralph's shirt and held the fabric in her fists.
"Well, what did happen then?" the wrecker demanded as Turbo pushed himself back up onto his feet. "Why is her leg like that?" A hand was around the little child, awkwardly, but genuinely patting her back.
Turbo's yellow eyes flashed with hostility. Oh sure, just because the stupid brat injured herself from her own idiocy he gets blamed. "We were at Diet Cola Mountain, and Sugar Rush's intelligent little princess decides to throw some rocks at the walls. They collapsed."
Three glares fell on the pixie, to which she shrunk down in Ralph's arms at. Really, why did they care about her health so much? If she died she'd just regenerate, but he wouldn't! He wasn't King Candy anymore and therefore had no link to this game. Well, other than the pixie. Perhaps that would let him regenerate, but it wasn't a theory Turbo felt like testing.
"My car..." Vanellope miserably shut her eyes and let a few more tears roll down her cheeks. "Gone. It's nothing but...candy dust now.'" A shaking sigh rippled her form and she fell more heavily against Ralph's arms, favoring her leg.
"Oh, Miss Vanellope, don't say that," Felix tried to soothe gently, running his fingers through her black locks. "You know I can fix anything!"
Turbo had to snort. What a naive fool. "My doubts are high, Fix-It. It's buried under thousands of pounds of rock and there isn't even a part left to reattach to the kart. It's nothing but dust now."
Livid glares targeted the racer as Vanellope crumpled further, but he merely threw up his hands in exasperation. He was only being honest.
"Hey, it's alright kid," Ralph offered. A big, clumsy finger brushed against the girl's eyes as he smiled. "We can make a much better car at the bakery without drowning it in icing and sprinkles this time."
Vanellope didn't look comforted to any degree and Ralph deflated. He wasn't very good with comforting the kid in this type of situation. They all had their specialty as her caretakers. He was the fun and playful one, Tamora was the stern disciplinarian, and Felix was the cuddling one that fixed everything, including broken hearts.
Sensing Ralph's lack of skills in this area, Felix delicately took the kid into his own arms. The normally proud girl threw her head against the handyman's chest and he carried her back to her bedroom.
"Well, I'd say you certainly had a grand expedition today, Little Miss," Felix said, none too brightly as he sat down with the nine year old in his lap. "Didn't we warn you to stay away from that old mountain?" He tried to put on a stern frown, but failed under the sad tears of the child, and due to his lack of ability to be angry.
"Let's take a look at that leg now." He positioned the girl so she was half sitting and half cradled in his lap. The child instinctively shied away from his touch several times, but eventually let him look at her hurt appendage.
"It hurts." Vanellope was trying to be brave, but she couldn't hide the tears pooled in her eyes.
"I'll bet it does. That's one nasty injury, Miss Vanelley." The handyman smiled at her and held up his trusty, golden hammer. "But it's nothing this handyman can't fix."
Vanellope cried out from the fleeting pain of the hammer, but after a gentle "ding" sounded, her leg was entirely healed. Grinning, the girl happily flexed it and smiled up at the handyman.
"There! Good as new and all ready for racing and what ever else you decide to put it through," Felix laughed, giving the girl an affectionate squeeze.
"Thanks," Vanellope said, wiggling her toes inside her shoe and smiling when it caused no pain to shoot up her leg. She was gently picked up again, and this time laid under the covers. Felix sat at the edge of her bed and ruffled her hair.
"Are you alright now, Miss President?" he smiled.
Wiping the last of her tears, the girl laid back against the pillow and looked dejectedly down at her blankets. "I guess so," she mumbled, playing with her fingers. "Everything seemed to be going so well at first. I mean, Turbo had actually gone about twenty minutes without threatening me with death." She glanced up as the handyman winced. "Hey, it's a start."
Felix sighed. "Well, your big mistake was probably deciding to try and collapse Diet Cola Mountain." This time he did manage to give her a look stern enough to make her turn away.
"Collapsing it wasn't what I was trying to do! I just wanted to get a start on renovating, because Turbo and I are going to change the codes and make it into an actual race track."
Felix glanced awkwardly out the window, where he could see the odd gap in the landscape where the mountain used to be. "There isn't much to renovate now."
"At least now the space is clear to add something new," Vanellope decided. "Something safer for the races maybe? Oh, like a hot chocolate pit and a corkscrew road going through it!"
At that, Felix had to smirk endearingly and shake his head. "Safer," he muttered playfully, giving the child a gentle poke in the belly. "Right now, Miss Vanelley, you should worry about resting up. You aren't on the Rosters for today."
His smile faded when he realized something. "Actually, you won't be for a while. You linked yourself to Turbo. You can't race unless he's with you."
The girl's sleepy, chocolate eyes had already fluttered closed. "I have a plan for that," she mumbled quietly. Her head was nodding off to the side. "Tell me a story." Young brown eyes targeted him. "A story about Turbo."
A story about Turbo? That went so far back in his memory that Felix had to think, for a moment. When he spoke, there was a hazed over sadness to his eyes.
"We had all been friends when Turbo Time first came out," Felix began softly. "Turbo was a different guy back then, before the jealousy consumed him and he grew a lust for power. He was always extremely mischievous and loved to play jokes on unfortunate targets." He quirked an awkward smile. "Me.
"I woke up one morning—well, morning in the real world, but in our game it's always night—to find a few windows were destroyed. I found this peculiar because Ralph wasn't known for doing wrecking after hours. Still, I fixed it.
"I turned around ten minutes later and all the windows were destroyed again!" Felix turned to see Vanellope smile sleepily, her eyes still closed.
"I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was going on! Every time I turned more windows were destroyed. I was worried I'd need to replace my hammer by the end of that day.
"Those two silly heads had managed to keep hidden because they were quiet, but I heard Turbo sputter, and I look and see both him and Ralph on the ground laughing just hysterically!" There was a different look on Felix's face, and he gave a few blinks when his eyes stung. "I had never seen Turbo laugh so hard. Never in all my life..."
The reminiscing handyman looked back and saw Vanellope appeared to be sleeping, with a soft and contented smile on her face. Felix drifted out of his memories and leaned forward to give the nine year old a gentle kiss on the forehead.
"I really hope you know what you're doing, Vanelley," he murmured softly.
He had nearly had a heart attack and died on the spot when he found out the crazy kid had bound her code to a psychopath. He understood Vanellope's innocent mindset, but the child really didn't know what she had gotten herself into, or the danger she had put herself in.
To Felix, he had realized the Turbo that was once his friend was long gone, and he was beyond forgiveness the moment he decided to try and murder Vanellope on the race track. The handyman was a gentle and forgiving soul, but he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive a monster that tried to harm a young child; least of all one he cared for so deeply.
Sighing, Felix closed Vanellope's door quietly behind him and stared at the room just next to the girl's. He wasn't comfortable with the fact Turbo and Vanellope's rooms weren't even ten feet from each other. Albeit, it wasn't like Turbo could harm her, but still...
"Can I come in?"
"Beat it, Fix It."
Well, Turbo-Sunshine was still awake. The handyman's hand trembled as he grasped the door and slowly creaked it open.
Turbo was on his right side. His eyes were closed but he was awake. Only now, with his concern for Vanellope out of the way, could Felix see that Turbo hadn't escaped injury himself.
Timidly, like a cowering little mouse, Felix approached the bed. Something within his heart broke when Turbo's eyes opened. The yellow sparkle in them was gone, replaced with solid hate and hostility. The racer Felix had known and been close with wasn't there anymore.
"I...I thought you might like for me to take a look at your injuries."
"I'm fine," Turbo growled softly. "Worry about the pixie."
The handyman cleared his throat and attempted to sound authoritative. "No...you're not fine, and as long as you're bound to Vanellope it is our duty to look after you as well! Now, did you get hurt in the mountain?"
Several, silent moments passed and Turbo turned on his back, showing minor cuts and scrapes to the handyman.
"Don't worry, I can fix it!"
Turbo flinched as the golden hammer gently tapped his multiple wounds, but within a second the pain had disappeared. That was a handy tool, he had to give the short-stack that much. The hammer even cleaned the dirt off of him.
"You haven't changed, Fix It," Turbo muttered quietly. His voice was expressionless, and so Felix couldn't tell if he was insulting or complimenting him.
"You have," Felix whispered, too quiet for Turbo to hear.
It was probably sometime in the afternoon when the nightmares started. It was hard to tell in an artificially lit land, but it had been a few hours since Turbo had brought the pixie back home.
The racer was tossing around in his sponge-cake bed, drenching the plush and edible mattress with perspiration as Vanellope's horrific unconscious thoughts invaded his head.
Her dream was similar to the last one. Vanellope was banging on the barrier, but it didn't look like she was trying to escape the game. Behind her was the exit, rather than in front of her.
"Kid!" Ralph cried frantically. "We have to go!"
"No!" The nine year old slammed her hands against the barrier repetitively, trying to get through it. "I didn't come this far, and do everything just to lose him!"
That's when Turbo saw himself, the glitch, on the other side of the barrier, desperately shoving and throwing himself against it with a look of utter terror around him as the world started to vanish up into code.
Even though it had been Vanellope's subconscious, Turbo still tumbled back against his marshmallow pillow with a shaking gasp. He was absolutely drenched in perspiration.
From in the dimly lit room, Turbo felt a sudden shift at the edge of his bed. Sure enough, wide and frightened brown eyes blinked up at him. He shot a cold, yellow glare right back.
"What are you doing here, Pixie?"
The nine year old hesitated and fiddled with her nightgown for a few moments. Finally, she looked up at him and spoke in a soft and innocent voice. "I had a bad dream."
Didn't he know it. And it was about him, none the less. The only dream of his he'd consider bad having to do with the brat would be if he ended up being chained to her forever.
Turbo settled back against the bed with a deep exhale. His eyes were tired, too tired to project their usual venom. He glanced up at the pixie, who was sitting on his legs. He had half a mind to buck her off and straight into the wall, but thought against it. If he injured her badly enough, he'd feel it.
"It was...a weird dream," Vanellope went on. "A scary one. I'm not sure how to describe it." She shook her head. "I can't sleep." And then she looked at him.
Okay, he didn't care about the link—she was going out the mother fudging window if she dared ask to snuggle up with him.
"Get back to your bedroom before I drag you there by your hair."
Obviously, the pixie realized what he had been thinking as she laughed and held up her hands. "Oh, no! I just came in here...to talk. I mean, it sounded like you were awake because you were shifting around a lot."
Of course he was awake, thanks to her and her graphic nightmares. "Well, what do you want?" Turbo snapped.
"...To talk?" the pixie offered.
He could just drag the brat back to her bed and tape her there. It would have done the job twice as well, but for some reason talking didn't sound like the worst option. If Turbo was honest with himself, he didn't feel like sleeping after that nightmare either.
"Can you tell me more about Turbo Time?"
The racer shut his eyes as a familiar pang of sickness struck him. Why did she care so much about his old game? Why did anyone? With such high definition arcade names now-a-day, he was surprised people remembered Turbo Time ever existed at all.
"Tell me about the racers. What were their names?"
"...Jet and Set," Turbo said softly. The knife-like edge to his voice always disappeared when he spoke about his game, which was rare. Sadness always took hold of his tone, forgotten memories washing over him. "They were identical twins, my rivals, and my opponents."
"Were they your friends?"
Turbo stiffened, and then he glanced out the window with an off look on his face. "I don't like normally using the 'f' word," he muttered to himself.
"That's funny," the pixie grinned. "Our definition of the 'f' word is fudge! But Tamora gave me a talking to when I said that last time."
Slowly, the racer turned to the girl. The corners of his mouth almost turned up by the slightest millimeter. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Jet was the more confident one. They were both good racers, but..." He gave a cocky smirk. "I was the best one. I won most of our matches."
"Did you throw a fit like a baby when you lost?" Vanellope taunted playfully. The humanity in Turbo faded as he gave her an acid glare.
"You want to hear about my game or not, Pixie?!"
"Yes, yes, I do! Sorry, sorry! But can I ask you something?"
The racer snarled under his breath and scowled at the child. "What?"
"Racing is what's in your code, right, like it's in mine. And you love to race, right?"
Was this brat brain dead or something? He hacked into a game and killed a character just to ensure he always would be the best racer of all time, and he was willing to kill a child to make sure it stayed that way.
"Uh, yes, Pixie. I do."
The child's eyes became suddenly bleak and honest as she looked at him. "Why couldn't you just come to Sugar Rush and just ask me to be a part of the game? I mean, yeah, you're creepy looking and look nothing the characters in this game do, but we could have found a place for you."
Turbo's glare had become more tired now as he shook his head. She just didn't get it, did she? And little did she know, it would not have been her he'd be asking if he did want to join the game. Now that he thought of it, King Candy would have doubtlessly said yes out of his kind, golden heart, but that wasn't Turbo's objective.
"I was number one in my game until that wretched Road Blasters came along. I wasn't settling for anything less."
"But you can't always be number one," Vanellope protested quietly. "And I'm sure, as great of a racer as you were, you were beaten by the girls, because I know they all had gold coins at some point."
"Of course," the racer answered simply. "Of course I didn't always win. Power-ups shot me down, I sometimes went off the track—many things happened in those ten years. I'm sure you watched some of the races." He smirked. "But most of the time I won."
"...Isn't that kind of the same situation then?" Vanellope questioned honestly.
"Is what?"
"The fact that you had to settle with not always being number one in Sugar Rush, just like you had to in reality. You couldn't be number one all the time in Sugar Rush and you could handle that, so why couldn't you in your game?"
Vanellope could tell she had irked the villain, as his eyes narrowed and darkened in anger.
"I don't need to justify my motives to a child," he snarled. "Why don't you just go to bed already?"
There was silence for a few moments, and Turbo could tell by the warmth leaving his legs that the child wasn't sitting on him anymore. He heard the bed shift and felt her staring at him, but he closed his eyes.
"...I would have let you."
"What?" the racer hissed softly.
"I said I would have let you," Vanellope mumbled back. "I would have let you be a part of my game."
Glaring silently, Turbo propped himself up on his elbows to stare down at the pixie, but she had already fallen asleep at the end of the bed.
